


Lesson Number Three: Office Decoration

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Beating, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hugo is Rhys' father, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Break, No Smut, Non-Consensual Spanking, Parent/Child Incest, Public Nudity, going by TFTBL first draft here, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: In an AU based on the first drafts of TFTBL, Rhys is Hugo Vasquez's son. And Lost_Elf Dead Dove's it.
Relationships: Rhys/Hugo Vasquez
Kudos: 13





	Lesson Number Three: Office Decoration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sasspiria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasspiria/gifts).



> I'm still unsure about how to write Hugo, but here I go. I haven't been very productive lately because of a killer headache, but this story idea was short and motivating enough to fit into the gaps between waves of pain. This is also my "100th" story on AO3. Not by far, lol, because there are, like, 35 stories in AU-gust and in Noncontober combined, and also some anonymous, etc. But this one makes the work count turn 100, so, yaaay me! I'm glad I could gift my 100th work to someone, and that is [Sasspiria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasspiria/pseuds/Sasspiria), my bad influence. Hope you enjoy! <3

“You don’t respect me at all. Perfect!”

Vaughn and Rhys exchanged one last look, both suppressing the urge to chuckle. The taller of the men gave a thumbs-up, and then he turned to the door. It was finally the time to get his promotion.

The second he walked into Henderson’s office, he knew something was wrong. The door closed behind him, and he proceeded further into the room, but the feeling that something bad was about to go down didn’t leave him. Rhys steeled himself for the worst, crossing the distance to the desk. “Mr Henderson?” he asked, some hesitance seeping into his confident voice.

“Have a seat, Rhys. I’ll just be a second.”

The voice wasn’t Henderson’s, and Rhys felt the blood in his veins turning to ice. He knew that voice all too well, but he didn’t want to admit it, clung to some stupid hope that it had been just an illusion fooling his senses. He took another couple steps forward, listening to the one side of a phone call until it was over, and the man in the chair faced him.

“Company car; didn’t even have to ask,” Hugo said.

Hugo Vasquez, Rhys’ nemesis at Hyperion, his greatest rival and… his _father_.

“You look surprised to see me, Rhys…” Hugo drawled smugly, putting his legs on the desk. “And if I’m reading this situation right, and I usually am, you’re not too happy about it either.”

Of course Rhys wasn’t happy about it. He _hated_ his father. Well, he used to admire him, wanted to be just like him when he was a kid, but just as he began to really mean something at Hyperion, climb the ranks like his parents did, Hugo started doing everything in his power to make life harder on Rhys and to sabotage him. He didn’t want to be overshadowed by his own son.

“Where is Henderson?”‌ the younger man asked coldly.

“He stepped out,” Hugo brushed it off. It sounded improbable, but Rhys too was busy trying to make sense of the rest of the situation to try to figure out what the cryptic words really meant. “You’re going to be reporting to me now, Rhys.”

And that was exactly what Rhys was afraid off. As his superior, his father could freeze his progress indefinitely. Rhys would be forever stuck in data-mining.

Those fears were chased away with Hugo’s next words, though. “And I want you to know, the promotion that you worked so hard to get, that’s still coming to you.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” the junior said, still a little wary, but he finally sat in the offered chair. He wasn’t even allowed to finish that sentence as his father spoke right over him.

“But this is about more than that, Rhys. This is about your future in this company,” he said, standing up and walking around the desk. It sounded dark, foreshadowing. Rhys knew not to expect anything nice from his father. Ever since his mother ran away from them, Rhys was wary about that man, and when Hugo started actively trying to sabotage his promotion, he _resented_ him.

“Look, you wanna know the reason why I’m in that chair and you’re not?”‌ the senior man asked, sitting on the edge of the desk opposite to Rhys.

Rhys knew exactly why. Because his father was a sly snake, stopping at nothing to achieve his goals. Because he hated the idea that Rhys might be good at something much more than he loved his son. Because life just wasn’t fair.

“It’s for the exact same reason why North is North, why the handsome guy always gets the girl, and why every spaceship in the universe is shaped like a cock.”

A little disgusting, as always, and Rhys had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t bother pointing out that the metaphor didn’t make much sense. His father couldn’t be stopped once he went on a tirade about his own greatness.

“It’s destiny, Rhys, and men, real men like me, make their own.” With that, Hugo walked over to the huge window overlooking Pandora. “And you can hold a grudge,” he continued, and Rhys finally rolled his eyes, silently simmering in his anger. “No harm no foul, your thoughts are your own…

“But bad things can happen when you swim against fate.”

Suddenly, something floated into their view. At first, Rhys thought that it was just some space debris, but no. It was a body. A‌ very familiar body with a very familiar face, frozen in a terrified grimace. Henderson.

“Sometimes men find themselves standing in the way of other men’s destiny…” Hugo went on, but Rhys wasn’t listening, staring at the body of his past boss. The room seemed to turn a couple degrees colder, chilling Rhys to the bone.

“Wow, I could _not_ have timed that better, that really helps dramatically make my point,” Hugo continued as if the body of a man that he… _murdered_ wasn’t floating behind his window. “Which is this,” he said, walking back to the cybernetic man.

“This promotion is gonna take you out of the way of other people’s destiny and put you on your own path. And that, my son, is why I’m promoting you to –” Rhys held his breath, unsure what to expect – on one hand, he could end up being his father’s assistant, which wouldn’t be half bad but at the same time would suck, or he could be stuck as a lowly middle-manager for the rest of his days, “– Assistant Vice Janitor.”

“W-what?”‌ Rhys gasped, a whole new kind of dread swallowing him. “N-no, no, no, you can’t!” His whole life, years of hard work, all for _nothing?!_

“I’m the boss now, Rhys! I ‌do whatever I‌ want.”

Rhys could feel his father’s anger rising; he didn’t like when the younger man talked back, but he couldn’t stop.

“You see, Henderson was a fool wanting to promote you even though I advised him against it. He didn’t know his place, obviously, he needed lesson number one, _humility_.”

Emotions continued to mix and boil inside of Rhys. He couldn’t listen to that maniac anymore, so he snapped, rising from his chair. “I’ll make you regret this!”‌ he shouted. But before he could say more, he was sent sprawling to the ground.

It felt as if the punch forced his brain to reboot. Rhys didn’t remember falling, only opening his eyes and finding himself on the ground. His head ached dully, his nose exploding in much sharper pain when he tried to take a breath and chase away the dizziness that settled on his mind.

Hugo had never hit him before, but Rhys wasn’t exactly surprised that his father would step that low. Not that the man deserved to be called his father after this.

“I’m your boss now, Rhys, get used to that,” Hugo tutted at him, crouching. Rhys was still too paralysed by nausea to resist when the older man grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the side, studying the blood that was undoubtedly streaming from his nose. “That was lesson number two,” he muttered distractedly, seeming mesmerized by the sight. It was a little sickening, he was almost _leering_ at his own son, and it made Rhys want to throw up.

“But it always took more to get things through that thick skull of yours, didn’t it?” Hugo asked himself, his eyes glinting. Then he stood up, pulling a golden satin handkerchief out of his pocket and tossing it at the younger man.

“I changed my mind, Rhys. It would be a waste making you a janitor, wouldn’t it?” He gave the cyborg a pointed look, expecting an answer from him. When Rhys ignored him, Hugo scowled and kicked him in the stomach.

Gasping, Rhys rolled onto his side and curled up, his mouth filling with bile. That _hurt_ , almost more than his head.

“I asked you a question, Rhys!” Hugo shouted, kicking him again.

It took him almost too long to remember what even was the question. “Yes!” Rhys gasped out urgently, cowering before another hit.

This was a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. When Hugo offered him a hand, Rhys pointedly ignored it and sat up without help, finding petty comfort in ruining the expensive fabric of the handkerchief with his blood.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” the senior man continued in his smug tone, stepping almost awkwardly close. “I won’t make you a janitor. Instead, you will be working directly with me. Or, you could say, under me…”

Rhys had half a mind to decline out of spite. Say that he’d rather be a janitor than work with his father for another second. But he thought twice before opening his mouth again, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take another hit without either throwing up or crying.

“This office is big but empty, don’t you think?” Hugo spoke, spreading his arms and looking around. “It lacks personal touch. A _decoration_.”

Scratch that, Rhys didn’t like where this was going. Apparently, the situation could turn even more fucked up without him getting beaten within an inch of his life. He hoped he misunderstood.

“What are you saying?” he asked warily, his voice betraying that he was still weak and dizzy.

“That’s _what are you saying **sir**_ ,”‌ Hugo hissed, but fortunately didn’t hit Rhys again. “And I’m saying that starting today, _you_ will be my office decoration. I bet every department head will envy me. And some people will probably envy you. You should be happy.”

“I still don’t understand,” Rhys shook his head, ignoring the pain it caused.

Hugo sighed but didn’t bother explaining further. Instead, he stepped closer, feet on either side of Rhys’ hips, and leaned down, fingers tugging at the knot of his son’s tie until it came loose. “You will understand soon enough,” he said when all Rhys did was gape at him.

Next were the buttons of his shirt, and that’s when Rhys’ (shitty) survival instincts finally kicked in. He gasped in realisation, slapping the hands that were _stripping him_ , his _father’s_ hands, away and scrambling backwards. Hugo would have none of that, though.

The next slap hurt as much as the first punch, especially when the golden pinkie collided with the bruised cartilage. Rhys cried out, clutching his nose that started bleeding again and letting Hugo undo the rest of his shirt buttons. Then his hands were pushed away from his face, the shirt along with his vest pushed off his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Rhys gasped, vision a little blurry as dizziness returned to him.

“Always the slow kid, aren’t you?” Hugo tutted. “But pretty, I must admit that. I almost forgot how pretty you are, with that tattoo of yours.”

Heartrate rising, Rhys basically _squeaked_ out his next words while covering himself with his arms. “ _What the fuck?!_ ”

“Watch your tongue, young man, I’m still your father!” Hugo raised his voice, readying his hand for another hit, which had the younger man blurting out a mindless apology and cowering.

“It won’t be easy to teach you your place, but if there is something we are good at in Hyperion, it is breaking brats like you. Now take off your pants.”

Rhys shuddered. He could feel his heart trying to burst out of his chest, to escape the situation. He was quickly thrown into panic mode, unable to decide. He didn’t want to take his pants off in front of his _biological father_ , for fuck’s sake, but he didn’t want to be beaten to death, and he felt like he couldn’t take more.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Rhys…”

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, adding it to the steady stream that dripped from his nose onto his chest, Rhys started slowly undoing his belt. His hands were shaking, hindering his progress, but for once, Hugo seemed patient, satisfied with watching him struggle.

After kicking off his shoes, Rhys screwed his eyes tight shut and pulled his pants off. Before they were even off completely, Hugo cleared his throat out and spoke again:‌ “Although it’s quite cute that you still wear your Claptrap cartoon briefs, I’ll have to ask you to take those off too.”

“You’re sick,” Rhys muttered more to himself than at Hugo. The remark helped him keep his sanity, reminded him what was going on. He felt like he went crazy, it was… He never knew that his father was _this_ kind of person.

Rhys sat naked on the cold floor, not daring to open his eyes and see the shameful state of his body. He could only imagine that he was flushed pink, his blue tattoo streaked with crimson blood and the rest of his body deathly pale.

“See, isn’t it better when you listen to orders?” Hugo cooed, patting his head condescendingly. “Now come to my desk, we have work to do.”

Rhys heard Hugo’s footsteps retracting from him, and he didn’t need anything else. Blindly grabbing for his clothes, he only managed to grasp his shirt before his legs were – quite unsteadily – carrying him to the door.

It didn’t open. Not automatically, and not even when he tried to open it manually. Behind him, his father laughed.

“You didn’t really think that I would let you leave, right? Come back here, and make it quick. Every second that you’re not where you’re supposed to be adds up to your punishment.”

Hanging his head, Rhys gave up, walking to the desk slowly and somberly. He covered his crotch with his hands, saving at least a bit of his dignity. He stood on the opposite side of the desk than Hugo and refused to acknowledge the older man.

“Fine, have it your way,” the senior sighed, walking around the desk once more to join Rhys. With no warning, he grabbed the back of Rhys’ neck and pushed him down until his chest rested on the desk.

New wave of fear washed over the cyborg, but all he could do was whimper and close his eyes against the tears. Was Hugo going to _rape him?!_ His whole body shook with fear and disgust.

A loud slap echoing through the room told Rhys that no, that wasn’t the case. He was getting _spanked_.

“Count them, you will get ten,” Hugo said sternly, slapping him again. “If you don’t speak loud enough, the previous slap doesn’t count at all.”

Catching on immediately, Rhys stuttered out _one_ after what was technically the third slap. The pain that each hit sent through his backside was nothing compared to the rest of the pains in his body. In the state of mind that he was, he didn’t even truly feel it. What he could feel, and what his brain focused most of its energy on, for some reason, was the hand on his neck. Probably subconsciously, Hugo kept rubbing soothing circles into Rhys’ stiff muscles with his thumb. It felt _intimate_ , and it made Rhys feel dirty more than anything else that happened between them so far.

By the tenth hit, Rhys felt numb. Not only his body but also his mind. When Hugo told him to get up and go stand by his chair like the decoration that he was, he went. He didn’t resist when his hands were tied behind his back with his own tie, didn’t even blink when the rest of his clothes was thrown into the waste chute.

This was how his life would be now. His father had complete power over him, and he could hurt him however he wanted, touch him wherever he wanted, coo at him and soothe him like nothing was happening only to grow angry right after when Rhys forgot to say thank you.

“Spread your legs, come on – posture is important, Rhys!‌ We want to make a good first impression.”

The younger man obeyed, keeping his gaze fixed on a spot on the far wall, unblinking until his eyes began to burn. He didn’t want to watch as his father appraised his body, and that was exactly what was happening. Hugo’s fingers danced gently on his skin, the touch, once more, almost soothing, _intimate_. He smeared Rhys’ blood on his face and chest, then manually corrected his stance.

“You have always bruised easily,” the older man murmured as his fingers skimmed over the freshly forming bruises on Rhys’ stomach. “I never thought I would see my marks on you, though…”‌

Suddenly, the phone rang, and Hugo’s attention was pulled away. “Guess I wasted enough time with you. Some of us need to do actual work, you know. Later, I will take care of contacting HR‌ and also moving you back to my apartment. As an office decoration, you can’t afford to live on the same floor as middle management, now can you? Someone will have to take you under their roof, and I’m generous enough to…”

Rhys tuned the rest of the words out, closing his eyes. He could feel tears trailing down his cheeks freely, and he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. There was nothing he could do to escape, his fate was now under his father’s control. His father, who paid leering glances to his bruised red ass while he took a call that should have been Rhys’!

He didn’t even want to think what would happen to him next, what would his job consist of. So, he didn’t think. He closed his eyes and imagined the situation going completely differently…

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [my NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting) and [Tumblr](https://lostelfwriting.tumblr.com/).


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